


i carry your heart with me (i carry it in mine)

by Hodgy



Category: All Elite Wrestling, Professional Wrestling
Genre: A whole lot of Kenny moping around feeling sorry for himself, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining, Post-Break Up, Wholesome Kenny/Jon Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25763986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hodgy/pseuds/Hodgy
Summary: kenny swears the day he’s inevitably sent down to hell, the skype dial-tone will greet him there.
Relationships: Ibushi Kota/Kenny Omega, Side Darby Allin/Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

> title from "i carry your heart with me" by e.e. cummings
> 
> something of a spiritual successor to "may your silhouette never dissolve". enjoy <3

kenny swears the day he’s inevitably sent down to hell, the skype dial-tone will greet him there.

he’s face-down in his bed, said dial-tone bouncing around the walls of his hotel room, with his nose smooshed in to his fancy  _ posturepedic spinal alignment memory-foam pillow _ . “spinal alignment, my ass _ ” _ kenny grumbles to himself “tell that to the pain-blade stabbing me in my back every  _ fucking _ second.”

“do-doo-do-doo-doo-FUCKING-doo _! _ , i get it, jesus.”

kenny slams his laptop lid shut without even looking. it feels like he does this every night. he  _ does _ do this every night.

calling and calling and never getting an answer. it’s routine now. every day he gets home from daily’s place and collapses down in his bed, still sweaty and disgusting from work but way too tired to even attempt to hop in the shower just yet. every day he presses the round ‘on’ button on his laptop and watches the keys light up. every day he hovers the mouse over the blue phone shaped ‘call’ symbol, a petulant voice screaming at him in his head that _ “it’s no use” _ and _ “he’s not going to pick up anyway” _ . 

every day he tells that voice _ “fuck you, he will this time”,  _ and every day, without fail... it’s no use and he doesn’t pick up anyway. 

_ i’m stupid _ , kenny thinks,  _ stupid, stupid, stupid _ . 

he’ll just shower instead. that’ll get his mind off things.

kenny rolls slowly over to the edge of his bed, the poor man’s orange cassidy, and shimmies his wrestling tights down his thighs. usually, he’d play a little game of  _ kenny omega, shooting guard of the jacksonville giants _ , and try to score a three-pointer in his wicker laundry basket half-way across the room. 

kenny’s not feeling it tonight though.

he kind of just wants to go to sleep. 

once he’s done with his shower, kenny wipes a hand over the condensation fogging up his mirror. 

the last of his toner has washed out, leaving his hair brassy but still decidedly blond. god, he needs to get his hair done again soon. black, maybe. black and grey. this colour just doesn’t feel right any more. reminds him of… 2018. of when he was happy. 

“ _ fuck _ .” kenny curses, scrubbing a towel over his damp hair and skulking back out into his bedroom. “stop being miserable for one second, you fucking loser.”

kenny works through his regular evening warm-down routine; ticking off his mental list of stretches as he goes. he struggles with a few, still wincing when he pulls his right shoulder in the wrong direction or twists his lower back the way he did when he was a flippy-dippy junior heavyweight. this gets harder every year. he’s not getting any younger, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him. kenny glances around his empty hotel room. he’s going to end up an old cat man isn’t he? just him, twenty-five cats, and a stack of video games. sounds fun in theory, but kenny’s short-lived enthusiasm dims when he realizes how much more fun his retirement would be with someone to share his cat family and retro sega collection with.

“stop, for god's sake, stop it. i’m losing my fucking  _ mind _ .” kenny scolds himself, resigning from his warm-down and deciding to just get in to bed and go the fuck to sleep instead. clearly, being home alone isn’t good for his mental well-being. the sooner he can wake up and go back to daily’s place, the better. 

he squeezes his eyes shut and sighs, cocooning himself inside his duvet. 

tomorrow is a new day. 

barely an hour later, kenny is ripped from the blissful nothingness of sleep by the sharp doo-do-doo of the skype ring-tone. he sits up so fast that he knocks his laptop, still sitting idle by his pillow, down on to the floor with a thick clunk. 

“skype? phone? what?” kenny mutters into the darkness, reaching his hand out blindly to the beacon of light on his bedside table. he squints as he brings his phone close to his face, eyes burning as they do their best to adjust. 

_ 1 notification _

_ skype _ ****

_ missed call from: ibushi kota _

“fuck, what-” kenny scrambles up to a sitting position. “how do i- fuck, i missed him, how-”

kenny switches his bed-side lamp on and reaches out for his laptop that’s laying upside down on the shag carpet floor.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, please.” it boots up to kenny’s relief, asking him to enter his login details. his fingers are shaking, and he gets it wrong more than once, before finally getting it right. it logs in. his wallpaper appears on screen; him and ibushi, a photo they took together when they visited disneyland, a pair of mickey mouse ears poking out of ibushi’s copperb-brown hair.

the same notification pops up on the bottom right hand corner of the screen.

**_while you were away..._ **

**_skype_ **

**_1 missed call from: ibushi kota_ **

kenny pauses. not sure why he’s hesitating, he moves to click on to the skype window.

again, the message pops up in the chat window.

_ missed call _

it’s preceded by half a dozen  _ call declined  _ messages that reach the top of the screen. if kenny were to scroll up there’d be quadruple that and more.

_ two years.  _ kenny thinks.  _ two years. why now? _

his cursor hovers over the “call back” button. deciding to stop being a coward, he clicks.

ibushi’s profile picture pops up on screen.

_ calling… calling… calling… _

the call connects. ibushi appears on screen. kenny’s watched every one of ibushi’s matches since they separated but somehow, he still looks different.  _ his smile _ , kenny realizes,  _ it’s not there _ . ibushi looks so different without his smile, so stern. so serious, but still, handsome as ever.

“what do you want, kenny?” ibushi asks, expression reflecting in his voice. it’s cold. devoid of emotion.

kenny looks down at his keyboard. it’s glowing pink, purple, blue, green; cycling through the rainbow. 

kenny’s rehearsed this a hundred times over. thought about what he was going to say to ibushi the next time they spoke so many times, playing the scenario out in his head over and over again. now that he’s here; now that he’s finally gotten ibushi to answer, it’s all gone. poofed right out of his head. fucking typical.

“i haven’t got time for this.” ibushi snaps. kenny can see him move out of the corner of his eye, probably going to end the call.

“wait- don’t. please. i just… i just wanted to hear your voice.”

ibushi huffs, clearly agitated, but he still hasn’t ended the call. a flicker of hope. kenny’s heart jumps in his chest. 

“you can’t just walk in and out my life whenever the hell you please, kenny. i’m not a toy.”

kenny recoils. is that what ibushi’s been thinking these past two years? that kenny saw him as a toy? something disposable? as if the thought of seeing ibushi again wasn’t the first thought that came into kenny’s head every morning and the last thought that plagued him before he went to sleep.

“of course not, ibushi. i’m not trying to-- you know i don’t want you to feel that way. i’m sorry. fuck, i’m so sorry.”

kenny pulls his fingers through his hair, grabbing a fist-full and pulling at the roots.

“i’m sorry ibu-tan, i’m sorry. i don’t know what to do anymore. i can’t-- i can’t live without you. i’ve tried. i can’t.”

“ _ you _ left  _ me _ .” ibushi says, voice barely a whisper now. gone is the emotionless, pissed off edge to his voice, replaced with the feather-light touch of anxiety, of  _ how could you do that to me _ .

“you know i didn’t want to.” kenny looks up at his screen. he wants to reach out and touch, but ibushi’s not really there. he’s a collection of colours and pixels and electricity. kenny wishes more than anything that he was back in japan, back with ibushi. back in that time where they were on top of the world; never far from each others’ side. days spent lounging around in ibushi’s apartment or helping each other train in kenny’s home gym; play fighting and inhaling each others’ oxygen.

“i can’t do this again” ibushi hisses, and kenny can see the trail of a tear tracking down ibushi’s cheek. “i can’t.”

ibushi disappears, and is replaced by the skype chat window.

“no… no, no, no,  _ no _ .” kenny’s eyes dart around the screen.

_ call ended.  _

kenny tries, frantically, to call back. clicking the little phone icon over and over again.

_ call declined. _

kenny slams his closed fist down on his keyboard so hard that a few of the under-key lights flicker and die. 

he pushes his laptop away and swings his legs off his bed, pulling on a dirty pair of socks and a some feather-grey sweats.

he can’t be here. he needs to go.

it’s still early. kenny checks his phone. 12:27am, someone’s gotta be awake. 

he dials nick, nothing. matt, the same. adam’s on his floor, three doors down. there’s light illuminating the floorboards of the hall from underneath his door. kenny raps his knuckles against it, tries the handle, rattling it back at forth.

“ _ adam!”  _ kenny shouts, leaning heavily against the door. no answer, still. kenny presses his forehead against the smooth painted surface. “i need you, man.”

down the hallway, a handle clicks and turns.

“the fuck, omega.” a gruff voice calls out. 

kenny recognizes the voice; it’s moxley. fuck, since when was he on this floor?

“sorry, mox. didn’t know there was anyone else around” kenny calls back. he clearly woke him up, and he feels like an absolute asshole because of it. of all the people in the company he shouldn’t piss off, jon moxley is at the top of the list. they almost killed each the last time.

“yeah, whatever. keep it down.”

kenny can make out jon’s silhouette down the hall, shaking his head, then moving back inside. the door closes. kenny is alone again.

it’s not long before the door pushes open again, light flooding the hallway.

“hey… you doin’ alright, man?”


	2. two. (moxley interlude)

“what exactly happened with you two?” jon asks, setting a hot cup of tea down on the table in front of kenny.

darby is splayed out on jon’s bed with a book at arm’s length. he keeps rotating it back and forth as if he’s a captain and the book is his wheel, eyebrows quirking up and down as he seems to read or, look, at whatever is inside.

jon catches kenny staring. he looks exhausted; bags under his eyes, curly mop of hair dishevelled and half-tucked in to his hastily thrown-on jacket.

“don’t worry about him” jon tilts his head toward darby to show kenny what he means. “he’s not listening.” 

“don’t worry about who?” darby drawls, turning to look at jon. “oh. hey kenny. when did you get here?”

“see what i mean.”

“see what you what?” darby shoots back, he’s still very clearly not paying attention, already engrossed back in his book.

“su-per-vert” jon reads what he can see of the cover out loud. “nec-ro-philia var-i-ations”. 

it takes jon a second to register, and then “the fuck, darby?”

darby hums. jon turns back to kenny. “told you.”

kenny still looks nervous. he’s twisting his ring finger between his opposite thumb and forefinger, brows scrunched up in what looks like deep thought.

jon takes a sip of his coffee and leans back in his chair.

“we…” kenny let’s the air out of his lungs and presses his elbows into his thighs. “i came here. he’d just signed a contract with new japan. he wanted to sign and i wouldn’t let him. the belt -- the iwgp heavyweight belt, it’s what he’s been working for his whole career. i couldn’t have him give that up for  _ me _ . he’d be blackballed out of japanese wrestling like the rest of us. it’s his home.” 

jon can hear the raw pain in kenny’s voice; the longing, the regret.

“you and him though… were you two, uh…” jon still has trouble asking that question, despite the fact that his own… boyfriend? partner? uh, person that he cares about? is laying unashamed on his bed and half the roster knows about it. they do make it pretty obvious to be fair. they’re the only two walking around back-stage with matching fresh hickey’s whenever they’re both on the card. it’s funny, jon thinks, how he doesn’t give a single fuck about what people say about him and darby’s relationship, and yet he still struggles to say the word  _ boyfriend _ out loud.

“yeah.” kenny replies “we were together, for a long time. it’s a long story but, there was a lot of jealousy and fuck-ups on my end so, i’m not really surprised that it’s my fault again. i’m such a fuck up sometimes.”

“omega, this might sound strange coming from me, but stop blaming yourself. you did what you thought was right. that’s never a bad thing.”

“but he  _ hates  _ me.” kenny retorts, fingertips pressing into his temples.

“he doesn't hate you, kenny. he’s hurt because he  _ cares _ . that’s obvious and i know fuck all about feelings and shit.”

“tell that to your boy over there.” kenny quips, and jon can see the hint of a smile creeping into the lines beside kenny’s eyes. that’s all it took, huh? for jon to state the obvious? 

“kenny... despite our, uh, differences, i can tell you’re a good guy. be selfish just this once, yeah?”

kenny nods, and his grin is back in full force.

maybe jon  _ was  _ good at all this feelings shit after all.


	3. three.

the following wednesday, it’s kenny vs. jungle boy in a falls count anywhere match. they take each other to their limits. kenny’s in awe every time he see’s jack wrestle; he’s limber and talented and scary quick. he takes kenny down off the top rope onto the mats below with a quick hurricanrana off of luchasaurus’ shoulders.

they fight back and forth; kenny throws jungle boy into the barricades, jungle boy sweeps a leg under his feet and stomps his bad shoulder.

they’re coming to the fifteen minute mark when kenny has jungle boy’s back to the ropes. he runs across the mat; a quick v-trigger send the in-house audience into a frenzy. another. marko’s waving both hands above his head, yelling something at the ref, but it doesn’t distract him. kenny hits the one-winged angel and jungle boy goes down. 

one. two. three.

the crowd loses their minds, kenny’s song starts to play over the speakers.

he let’s the ref raise his hand and lead him to the ramp, but he’s not finished yet. he’s nowhere near finished. 

kenny signals over at dasha, who’s standing by the timekeepers table with a mic ready to go in her hands. she nods, and passes it over with a smile.

the ref looks over at kenny with one eyebrow raised, then steps out of the ring. 

“everyone give jungle boy a hand. great job, man.” kenny points to jack, who’s sitting with marko near ring-side, getting his rib looked at by doc sampson. he’d taken a nasty fall somewhere near the mid-way point but he’d pushed through. kenny respected that fight.

the crowd of wrestlers cheer dutifully. a little “jungle boy” chant starting somewhere amongst the roster, echoing around the arena for a few moments.

kenny swallows, breathes, gives himself a second to focus.

“listen guys, a lot of you here know me really well. a lot of you at home do, too. the bucks say i wear my heart on my sleeve and i guess that’s kinda true.”

the crowd goes mostly silent bar a few hushed whispers amongst the front row. 

“recently i’ve been… down. i’ve been an asshole. i haven’t been treating people right and i’m sorry. i’m really, really sorry. there’s someone in my life, who’s very important to me. who i love. so damn much. so much. and i genuinely can’t keep this up any more if i don’t get it off my chest here and now.”

the confused look on most of the wrestlers faces tells him that no one sees what he’s about to say coming. 

“ibushi. i’m  _ sorry _ . i’m so sorry that i hurt you. i miss you. i can’t see myself with anyone else, not now, not ever. that’s all i have. i love you.”

the crowd is looking back at him with slack jaws and wide open eyes. kenny catches joey’s cigarette fall out of his mouth and drop to the floor.

kenny  _ breathes _ . finally, for the first time in months and months he  _ breathes _ and it doesn’t hurt when he inhales. he knows now that even if ibushi never talks to him again he can die knowing that he tried.

kenny passes the mic back to dasha, who looks absolutely  _ scandalized _ , and ducks under the top rope. his song plays again.

when he makes it backstage, there’s an even bigger crowd waiting there for him. seems like every member of staff crawled out of the woodwork to gawk at him.

it’s not all bad though. matt and nick are leaning back against the entry to the sound room with matching cheesy grins. “that was fucking BEAUTIFUL, kenny!” matt bursts out as soon as kenny makes his way over “i think i’m actually  _ crying” _ , nick adds, wiping away a faux tear.

kenny hugs them both. where would he be without them, really? he owes so much of his happiness to them, to their friendship. they loved him and ibushi together. always so supportive, so loving. when kenny left new japan matt had let him sleep in his bed for weeks on end because kenny couldn’t stand being alone. he knew that nick had gone over to take care of ibushi, too. they were a family after all. 

they’re next up on the card, so they have to make a hasty exit, but stay with kenny for as long as possible asking probing question after probing question about “have you spoken to him?” “why didn’t you tell us?” “when’s he coming to visit?” until the tell-tale guitar of their entrance song starts to play over the loud speakers.

“you’re the man. we love you dude.” nick shouts out to him as they jog backwards down the entrance tunnels, blowing obnoxious kisses kenny’s way until they’re out of sight.

when he turns to head to the showers, tony’s blocking his path.

“hey, tony, i’m sorry. i know that was unprofessional. it won’t happen again.”

“kenny.” tony says, shaking his head. “listen, don’t apologise. just let me know beforehand next time, alright?” 

kenny nods his head, screwing the cap off of a bottle of water and taking a sip. “of course.”

“hey,” tony grins, “should i be talking to legal about this? you know there’s a contract there waiting for him to sign whenever he’s ready.” 

kenny huffs out a laugh “no. no, i don’t think so. but thank you. y’know i appreciate it.”

“hey,” tony rests his hand on kenny’s shoulder and squeezes, sincere “don’t mention it.”

  
  
  


later, in the uber back to his hotel, kenny decides to torture himself and scroll through twitter. he’s started something, it seems. every time he refreshes his mentions there’s a hundred more tweets directed at him. every so often, amongst the clips of him on the mic, are clips of jon. kenny didn’t catch the rest of the show. tony let him sack if off and go home before the crowding got out of hand.

he hits the little “play” button on one of the videos of jon. he’s closing the show it looks like, sammy guevara making a hasty exit out of the tunnels with the inner circle in tow.

“i just wanna say before we go tonight, that omega did an awesome thing back there. the guy has balls. y’know, i call myself hardcore. i wrestle with barbed wire and glass and make myself bleed for fun, but that shit’s small potatoes compared to how hard it must’ve been for him to say that up here on this stage. omega, i want you to know that i respect you brother. i respect you and i wish i could call myself the kind of man that has the guts to show his bleeding heart to a million fans on live television like that. ibushi, you’ve got something special in him. don’t let that go, man. don’t let it go to waste.”

the video cuts, and kenny feels the ghost of a tear prickling at his eye.  _ no, fuck, stop. enough crying for today. get yourself together, man. _

kenny pushes his door open, lugging his backpack behind him and dropping it on the floor. he drops down on to his bed, shimmies his tights off and rolls them in to a ball.

“this is it” kenny hypes himself up, narrowing his eyes at the basket. “three pointer, baby.” 

he tosses the tights and they land a solid two feet away from the basket. “one point for effort” kenny sighs, pulling off his sweaty shirt and replacing it with a clean one he’d cut the sleeves off of for some reason.

as is routine, kenny worms his way up his mattress and to his laptop, opening the lid and clicking the little ‘on’ button, watching the keys light up one by one. his space bar and half of the symbols are busted now. not as satisfying as usual.

_ logging in… _

kenny clicks his tongue, impatient. he wants to get this over with so he can shower and eat something.  _ he’s not going to pick up, he never does.  _

his wallpaper appears. ibushi’s mickey ears always make him smile. 

a notification pops up in the bottom right hand corner of the screen

**_while you were away..._ **

**_skype_ **

**_13 missed call from: ibushi kota_ **

  
  


“what -- fucking, holy shit, what?” kenny looks closely at the notification. did he see it?  _ already _ ? 

“fuck. oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck. fuck.” kenny tries to steady his breathing. he moves his cursor to the skype icon on his toolbar when ibushi’s skype picture appears in the centre of his screen.

**ibushi kota**

**accept call** **decline call**

there that ring-tone goes. do-do-dooing away. kenny can’t breathe. he feels like he’s going to choke. what’s ibushi going to say, fuck, what was  _ he _ going to say? he wasn’t ready for this. oh god, he wasn’t ready. not at all. 

mid anxiety spike, kenny accidentally clicks the ‘accept call’ button. “shit, fuck, no-”

ibushi appears.

kenny pauses, his body goes stock-still sans his heart which feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.

“ibu-tan?”

“i can’t believe you did that.” ibushi says, and kenny hasn’t heard that tone in his voice for so long. petal soft, kenny falls in love again every time he hears it.

“i can’t believe you did that.” he says again. kenny can see now that his eyes are rimmed red.

“you’ve been crying. are you okay?” kenny does reach out this time, traces the tips of his fingers across ibushi’s nose, his cheeks, down his jaw, brushes the pad of his thumb under his eye. they’re just pixels, but if kenny believes hard enough, he can almost feel ibushi’s warm skin there instead of the cold computer screen.

“am i okay?” ibushi replies, almost incredulous despite the tears.

“you can’t just  _ do _ that, kenny-tan.”  _ kenny-tan _ , kenny hasn’t heard that in what feels like forever. “your career.” ibushi continues “you can’t risk your career like that. not for me.”

kenny shakes his head, keeps his fingers pressed flat against the screen against the image of ibushi’s face. “my career will be fine.” kenny urges, “but i won’t be. not if we’re not  _ us  _ again. i can’t live when you’re not here. it sounds dramatic but it’s true. i can’t function properly. i feel myself drifting back into the person i am when i’m not with you. i don’t like that person. i like who i am with you a lot better.”

ibushi heaves a sigh through the other end of the computer screen, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms.

“soonest flight i can get out of here is in three weeks. pandemic’s making it harder to leave.”

kenny can’t stop the smile that breaks across his face.

“ _ hey _ . i love you.”

ibushi smiles. kenny doesn’t deserve reciprocation after the two years they’ve had apart. he’s okay with that. he’ll wait as long as it takes, and even if it never comes, he’ll be okay with that, too. he’ll still be here. he’s never making that mistake again.

it’s 11am in tokyo but ibushi falls asleep with kenny anyway.

when kenny wakes up the next morning, his laptop is dead.

he plugs it in and starts it up again. logs in. opens skype. 

_ calling… _

ibushi picks up right away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> excuse any formatting/spelling errors. i can't stop writing at the moment and i just needed to get this /out/. <3


End file.
